


Cleanliness

by keep_me_alone



Series: Moral Lessons [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Moral Lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_alone/pseuds/keep_me_alone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Anakin learns that he's not on Tatooine anymore and that Jedi are expected to keep to certain standards.<br/>(chronologically 1st in the Moral Lessons series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleanliness

**Author's Note:**

> Aight so apparently washrooms are canonically called freshers or refreshers so I apologize if this bothers you (it bothers me) but I'd rather be canon compliant

 

Obi-Wan was relaxing in the main room of his shared quarters, when his padawan appeared.

“Anakin,” he said, more cheerfully than he felt, “join me.” The boy complied, easily sinking into a meditative position at the low table. Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment. He was careful to keep his thoughts out of the force bond between himself and Anakin. Truthfully, he wasn’t present. He was thinking back to the years he had spent with his own master in these quarters. He shouldn’t’ve been given such spacious lodgings, as a newly knighted Jedi, but with Qui-Gon’s sudden death, and Obi-Wan’s petition to resume custody of Anakin, the council had seen fit to keep the disruptions to a minimum. And so here he was.

“Master?” Obi-Wan snapped out of his reverie, running a hand through his growing hair.

“Patience,” he counselled, best to make it look like an intentional lesson. He slowly poured the tea from Qui-Gon’s kettle into their cups. Obi-Wan centred himself, bringing his focus back to the matter at hand. “How long have you been with me, padawan?” He finally asked. Anakin’s eyebrows drew together as he concentrated. Obi-Wan was pleased to see that he was counting without the use of his fingers and without verbalising his thought process.

“A month, I think.” Anakin said finally.

“Do you think, or do you know?” Anakin looked worried.

“I know?”

“You still don’t sound certain.” Obi-Wan told him.

“It’s been a month,” Anakin declared. Obi-Wan chuckled.

“You are correct,” Anakin looked relieved. “And how have you adjusted to life at the temple?” Anakin wanted to tell him about how much he missed his mother, the strange way that Jedi life still reminded him of life on Tatooine, that he even missed Qui-Gon, but he doubted any of that was the answer Obi-Wan was looking for.

“I think I’m doing well, master.” He answered truthfully. Obi-Wan brushed his consciousness against Anakin’s. The boy was remarkably good at controlling what he released into their Force bond. Obi-Wan could sense almost nothing.

“Have you spoken with any of your teachers?”

“Not outside of class,” Anakin replied. He toyed with the table cloth that was draped over his lap.

“Focus, padawan,” Obi-Wan reminded him softly.

“Yes, master,” Anakin folded his hands.

“So none of your teachers have talked to you about hygiene?” Obi-Wan cringed internally, keeping his face a blank Jedi mask. This was as uncomfortable as he had feared. Other masters didn’t have such problems, he thought resentfully.

“No, master,” Anakin regarded him quizzically.

“I see,” so naturally the task fell to himself, “Were you aware that a padawan in service to the Jedi order is expected to wash several times a week? Usually daily?” Obi-Wan fervently hoped his new apprentice wasn’t feeling the same awkwardness he was. He tried to emit warmth and empathy across their mental connection, but their link was weak as of yet, and he wasn’t sure Anakin received the message.

“Well I was _told_ that,” Anakin replied, a slight attitude in his voice that Obi-Wan immediately picked up on.

“But?” Anakin shrugged.

“There’s nowhere to wash,” he answered blithely. Obi-Wan blinked, sure that he must have misheard.

“Nowhere to wash?” he repeated dumbly.

“That’s what I said,” Anakin replied with a slight smile.

“Tone, padawan,” Obi-Wan said firmly. He paused slightly, digesting Anakin’s remarks. “Where does that door lead?” He asked pointing to the door of the refresher.

“A closet?” Obi-Wan looked hard at his apprentice, thinking he was playing some sort of joke.

“Be serious, padawan,” Anakin looked confused.

“But I am being serious, master,” he protested. Obi-Wan needed a long moment to process this. He took a deep breath, sipped his tea and took more deep breaths.

“That’s the door to the refresher,” he told his apprentice, smoothing his long tunic.

“You have a fresher here? Slick!” Anakin was shocked. He wondered exactly how rich the Jedi order was, a thought that was unfortunately released into the Force and subsequently caught by Obi-Wan who raised both eyebrows.

“Wealth is a consequence that Jedi are not concerned with,” he reminded Anakin who looked appropriately downcast. With chagrin, Obi-Wan realized the likely source of his padawan’s excitement. Tatooine, he realized, was a desert planet. Water would have been a comparatively expensive commodity and indoor plumbing was not very common. Qui-Gon would have laughed at his oversight. A lump formed in his throat and Obi-Wan immediately dismissed it. Qui-Gon was not here. Another, less pleasant thought occurred to him.

“If you didn’t know that was a refresher, where have you been-,” Obi-Wan stopped himself from finishing the sentence. “Never mind, padawan. The shower is simple enough to operate.” 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take Obi-Wan long to show Anakin how things worked and so he was left in the sitting room, drinking tea until his apprentice had finished washing up. Anakin hadn’t bathed in a month. In the refresher he had told Obi-Wan that he’d been soaking his tunics in a nearby fountain and wearing them wet. It was no wonder the other masters were complaining of the smell; he was surprised his apprentice hadn’t started to mould. Obi-Wan was embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed earlier, but it had been a hectic month. He firmly resolved to pay closer attention to his charge. He meditated on this intent until Anakin emerged. He was clothed in fresh garments, Obi-Wan having sent the old down a chute to the incinerator. Obi-Wan grinned at his apprentice.

“How do you feel?”

“Like- like,” Anakin scrambled for a metaphor and lost. “Good,” he said smiling back. He was tempted to add an ‘I guess’ to the end of the statement, solely to ruffle his master’s feathers, but decided he wasn’t quite there. “but I do have a question, master.” Obi-Wan’s open expression encouraged him to continue. “Do you have… other soap?”

“What’s wrong with my soap?” Obi-Wan asked indignantly. He breathed deeply, regretting the slip. He had always been inclined to indulge himself when it came to cleanliness, and the soap was more expensive than was necessarily proper.

Anakin spoke haltingly, meekly, “it… smells… like _flowers_ …” Obi-Wan couldn’t help himself. He burst into a loud, deep laugh. It was exactly the kind of thing he would’ve said to Qui-Gon when he was an apprentice. Anakin was grinning sheepishly and Obi-Wan could feel their weak connection strengthen.

“We’ll get you your own soap,” Obi-Wan promised breathlessly.


End file.
